Winter, who had never seen Capella, was so well posted by Brett as to his personal appearance that he experienced no difficulty in picking out the Italian when he alighted from the train at Liverpool Street Station next morning. Capella did not conduct himself like a furtive villain. He jumped into a hansom. His valet followed in a four-wheeler with the luggage. In each instance the address given to the driver was that of a well-known West End hotel. The detective's cab kept pace with Capella's through Old Broad Street, Queen Victoria Street, and along the Embankment. At the Mansion House, and again at Blackfriars, they halted side by side, and Winter noticed that his quarry was looking into space with sullen, vindictive eyes. "He means mischief to somebody," was Winter's summing up. "I wonder if he intends to knife Hume?" for Brett had given his professional _confrère_ a synopsis of all that happened before they met, and of his subsequent conversation with the "happy couple" in Beechcroft Hall. He repeated this remark to the barrister when he reached Brett's chambers. "Capella will do nothing so crude," was the comment. "He is no fool. I do not credit him with the murder of Sir Alan, but if I am mistaken in this respect, it is impossible to suppose that he can dream of clearing his path again by the same drastic method. Of course he means mischief, but he will stab reputations, not individuals." "When will you come to the Black Museum?" "At once, if you like. But before we set out I want to discuss Mr. Okasaki with you. What sort of person is he?" "A genuine Jap, small, lively, and oval-faced. His eyes are like tiny slits in a water melon, and when he laughs his grin goes back to his ears." "Really, Winter, I did not credit you with such a fund of picturesque imagery. Would you know him again?" "I can't be certain. All Japs are very much alike, to my thinking, but if I heard him talk I would be almost sure. Why do you ask?" "Because I have been looking up a little information with reference to the Ko-Katana and its uses. Now, Okasaki is the name of a Japanese town. Family names almost invariably have a topographical foundation, referring to some village, river, street, or mountain, and there may be thousands of Okasakis. Then, again, it was the custom some years ago for a man to be called one name at birth, another when he came of age, a third when he obtained some official position, and so on. For instance, you would be called Spring when you were born, Summer when you were twenty-one, Autumn when you became a policeman, and Winter when you reached your present rank." "Oh, Christopher!" cried the detective. "And if I were made Chief Inspector?" "Then your title would be 'Top Dog' or something of the sort." Mr. Winter assimilated the foregoing information with a profound thankfulness that we in England do these things differently. "Why are you so interested in Mr. Okasaki?" he inquired.